


A Matter of Perspective… or How I Finally Came to My Senses in Regards to 'Perfect, Saint Potter'.

by AlexiCyn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bigotry & Prejudice, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort Food, F/M, Fantasy, Food Porn, Food Sex, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Good and Evil, HP: EWE, Hand Feeding, Hate Speech, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Original Character(s), Swearing, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:11:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1921002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiCyn/pseuds/AlexiCyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both sides almost without fail figure they have the right of it. After all, seldom does someone go into a conflict thinking "I'm dead wrong, but I'm going to do it anyway!"</p><p>What happens when everything you knew to be 'true' gets turned on its ear and shown not to be so true after all. What does one do with these sometimes painful new revelations? Keep them to one's self? Ignore them? Act upon them? </p><p>How does one take ahold of their destiny, when even that is shown to be not as neat and shiny as it had been proclaimed to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A word about what you are about to read...

This piece is something that has been kicking around in my head for some time now. Over time it's morphed into what is on offer here. 

It made sense to me. I'm hoping it will make sense to you.

I hope you enjoy.

OH, all tags don't apply to all chapters, but I figure I will put heads up in anyways.


	2. Something wicked this way came

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

My thoughts are chaotic, scattered things. I feel as if they are birds, beating their wings against the wires of a too small cage. Frantic to be free, even if they can no longer fly. I try to order my thoughts, in hopes of staving off the madness. It is the last of my hope, so I try to use it sparingly. My mind, free falling. My thoughts disorderly. However when I try to make sense of the chaos, I find more questions than answers. Questions like:

 

What would you do to save your family?

What is good?

What is evil?

Why did I ever think I hated _'Perfect, Saint Potter'_?

Is evil, done in the name of good, good, or evil? None of it, or all of it?

Is the world truly as simple as black and white?

Did you know Muggles are brilliant when it comes to some things?

What makes a good son? A good friend? A good student? A good Slytherin?

What is love? Forgiveness? Redemption? 

Who is worthy, and who gets to decide?

 

Yes, all these and more are the questions that I get to toss around in my mind as I _'lounge about'_ in my ragged, filthy, prison issued clothing, waiting to have the rest of my life sentenced away from me. These questions and more I let tumble around in my head like sea glass amongst the rocks and waves. Tumble, and turn, and toss until what was sharp, andhard, is now soft and smooth and yet still hard at the same time. Hard because for some of these things, there are no easy answers, even though I was raised to believe there were. I feel that I have spent so much time blindly following, and NOT enough time asking questions, that it is only fitting that they now tumble unchecked and free within my tired mind. For a long while I felt I didn't have enough time, and now all I have is time. Time to think. Time to wait. Time to regret. So many things to regret. So many questions, and so much time spent not being smart enough to bother asking. Though I dare say I might well have regretted asking, even then. For I knew the answers. They were drilled into me before I could walk, before I could talk. The answers were always the same, even though I was to naive to know there could even be other answers, let alone questions… So now, I sit, and I regret.Regretting my thoughts. Regretting my deeds. Regretting words spoken in anger; in fear; in longing; with malice and no forethought. Regretting my actions. Worse still regretting inaction. Regretting that those I have wronged the most, will never truly know how sorry I am. 

 

I never questioned my father's views. I was a good son, or at least, I attempted to be. I was schooled from a wee one that we, as Malfoys, and as pure-bloods were simply the best. Superior to, and above all others. Beyond the reproach and rules of those who were so much lesser than ourselves as to hardly be worthy of consideration. Indeed. It really was as simple as that. Our name, our money, or very BLOOD made us who we were. No one else of any note seemed to question it, so why should I? Why should I question what my father taught me? He was the head of the house, surely he knew of what he spoke! He had a high standing amongst the wizarding community, and garnered respect, and fear in equal measure wherever he went. His beliefs dripped like honey from his lips, and I supped on those words, and thought myself full, and satiated. 

 

I was a fool. 

 

The muggles, those baffling, maddening, sometimes brilliant humans have an expression _"Pride Goeth Before a Fall"_. The very thought of it would have been absurd to me but a few short years ago. But now… I can only laugh. A bitter, hollow thing, that laugh, as I realize that so many muggle 'sayings' are now so very fitting for the formerly glorious house of Malfoy. It feels as if they had us, and our arrogance in mind when they created them. _"Oh, How the Mighty Have Fallen."_ and _"The Bigger They Are, the Harder They Fall."_ Our gaolers are particularly fond of spitting that last one at us. They say it with such pure glee that I have to wonder if these paragons of light don't have a bit more Slytherin to them than anyone is willing to, or are comfortable in admitting. 

 

Ahhh yes, our keepers… the very reason I muse so often now about good and evil. About seeing the world in black and white. 

 

I am positive there is no one inside or outside these walls that cares about our treatment, or mistreatment in this foul place. And to be honest, I can't help but feel that we have earned everything that our gaolers have promised us is coming, and more. Or at least, that is how I feel about father and I. Mother however is another matter. I would trade my very soul to see her free of this evil place. You see… in a fit of evil genius, disguised as mercy, they have housed us all close to one another. Close enough that I can listen to my father's mad mutterings about choices, and Dark Lords, and if he had only known… Close enough that I can hear the foul obscenities that are visited upon my mother's person. For the moment, they are only in words, but soon enough they shall be made flesh, if our keepers have their ways. 

 

_"I've never been with such a high born bitch, such as yourself. I wonder if your cunny is any better?"_

 

Close enough that I can hear my mother's gasp, and her attempts to scrabble away from the offending voice. I cannot see, so I do not know which side of the cell door her torturer stands upon. I pray that he is in the hall. That his foul breath does not waft past her hair as he spits such filth past his lips, and onto her person. I don't know where her tormentor is. I only know that at night, I am close enough to hear her quiet sobs. Close enough that I try to comfort her with empty words that mean so little. And I … I am close enough to them both that they can hear… the lewd promises of what shall befall me, once my sentence is official. The verbal abuses fall from our keepers tongues like so much spoiled honey. Thick, and cloying, and sickeningly sweet, until the horror of the words fully register in your mind. When the horror fully dawns, you are left feeling violated, and befouled. If words can feel like this, dear Salazar, what shall be left of us when the deeds are allowed to follow. I cower in the corner of my cell. Whispering to my mother that it will be alright. That it is only words, said to frighten us. That as followers of The Light, they would do no such things. Though I don't actually believe it myself. But, isn't that what a good son should do? 

 

I was willing to kill, or attempt to kill, to save my family. Why should I not be willing to lie as well. I lied when they asked me if I knew it was him. When my mad aunt Bella shrieked that ‘ _I must not get it wrong! That the Dark Lord would be MOST displeased if I got it wrong!’_  

 

I lied. 

 

It was as simple as that. The boy wonder was laying on our marble floor, blinking up at me with his puffy, swollen eyes, and I lied. Of course I knew it was him! I had only been obse… I mean watching him from across the great hall, and in classes for years. Yes, I lied. _Good Saint Potter_ was our only hope of escaping the madness. I tell myself that I did it to save myself, to save my family. For no other reason. Not because I had begun to look at him as something other than my nemesis... I continue to lie. Even unto myself. 

 

Our keepers, paragons of The Light, I fear could have given the dark side some lessons about mental, and emotional cruelty. The things they promise to do and the things they say, in the name of The Light seem to fit better into my old world, than into the one they claim to be from… For only the truly evil, would place us all together so that we could bear close witness to each other's abuses, to our undoings. Only the cruel would give us the slightly bigger cells we find ourselves in. From the outside looking in, it must seem a kindness, a consideration, a nod of the head to our comfort. The Malfoys once again getting special treatment. However, we know what it is truly about, because our keepers have been kind enough to inform us. It is for sport. For their amusement. For when they come for us, and they shall, just as soon as we become their permanent guests, they wish us to put up a fight, or at least, some token resistance. 

 

_"Makes it more interesting, it does. Makes your heart beat all fluttery, and your screams that much sweeter. Not that you can actually get away, poppet, but we'll pretend, won't we."_ They give us a bit extra of the nearly inedible offal that sustains us. _"'Ere now. Don't want you wasting away, and fainting on us, pretties. You shan't get away as easy as all that. When darkness claims you, it will be at my 'ands it will. They say pain can make you go unconscious… I look forward to testing that theory."_  

 

He looks at me and leers. Large wet tongue licking licking larger, and redder cracked lips. I can smell him from where I cower in the corner, trying to make myself one with the bricks. He smells of fire whiskey and sweat. Of unwashed clothes, and lust. Rage, and retribution. There are several gaolers who have taken a _'liking'_ to my mother, and I. Father is just promised beatings. He is so far gone, I am not even sure he hears them anymore. If he does, he does not acknowledge them. Though, he no longer acknowledges mother or I either. We however are not spared their attentions. Whatever horrors I thought awaited us, now pale in comparison to the oh so pretty pictures our keepers gleefully paint for us. I am violated before I have even been touched, and yet I know the reality of it will be so much worse again. 

 

Evil, allowed in the name of good, is still evil. At least, I think it is. I feel it is. But then, I can be sure of nothing any more. I am nearly 18, and I am terrified. I have already gotten so much wrong in my short life. Even now good and evil, things that were so clear before, that is if you let Gryffindors school you on such matters, are now mottled, misty, and dare I say gray. The world is a lot more gray than even I ever gave it credit for, and that is truly saying something as gray is so close to silver as to be an unspoken house color. 

 

I was never religious, though my mother enjoyed and practiced various forms of spirituality quietly, when my father was busy not looking. She tried her best to instill some of that in me, so now I sit and I pray. Entreating whichever spirit might listen to spare her. Yes, her. I don't care about myself, nor my father if truth be told. He is here because of his own narrow minded, and short sighted hatreds. I am here, because I blindly followed my father. At 16, I thought I knew it all. At 17, I felt that I knew nothing. Soon I will be 18, and all I know is that I would do anything to get my mother out of this foul place. The worst thing she is guilty of, is to have had the bad fortune to have married a man who turned into the right hand man of a half-blood lunatic. 

 

Nothing to me is more important to me than my family. So much so, that I am even a bad Slytherin because of it. Slytherins are said to put self preservation above all else, then family, and then friends. I seem to have gotten my Malfoy, before my Slytherin as my family (and those I consider family) did, do, and will always come first. I followed my family, specifically my father, into madness, all in the name of family, and his pure-blood ideas. And now, I pray to my mother's deities, and respected icons that they will spare her these indignities. Circe, Morgana, Merlin, Salazar, dear Godric even, someone, anyone. _Help her! Please!_ To use a quaint muggle expression, I would throw both my father and I _'under the bus'_ if it meant she could walk free of this hell on Earth. I ask not for me, because I don't honestly feel I deserve more than I have now. Yes, in the end I did it to save my family, but I still did it. I shall have to atone for what I have done. Atone for the things I should have done, but didn't. So here I sit, or cower as the case may be, awaiting my final fate. I am an all around failure, so, how can I not deserve the dark and ugly things promised to me on whispers in the night.

 

I failed as a son, because I couldn't kill, and so, couldn't save my family. Why else would my mother be here. Being verbally man-handled like a two-knut whore. Why would the Universe allow such indignities to befall her if I hadn't been a colossal failure as her son? I failed as a student, and my failure got other's attacked, and eventually killed. I let them in… even though I did it to save my family, I let them in. I hear their screams every night, over and over again, and if they were to haunt me, it would be no less than I deserve. I failed them to. I failed as a friend, and as a Slytherin as well. I couldn't save him. Yes, he started the fire, but I should have… I should… And in the end, I had to be saved, by Perfect, Saint Potter. In my darkest moment a beacon of light which while saving me, seemed to highlight my own failures and short comings in stark relief yet again. I thought myself superior, and yet even a boy from a cupboard could see I was unworthy to be his friend. 

 

Malfoys don't take rejection well, being completely unaccustomed to it. So when I couldn't have him, I vowed to destroy him. The barking laugh by my ear startles me for a moment until I realize it has come from me. My mouth moves in an unfamiliar fashion and then I realize it is because I am smiling, just a bit. Smiling, thinking about the one thing I am grateful for failing at. I am grateful that I never could destroy Potter. Never could best him, even when I was trying my hardest. Even when I was at my most devious the best I could ever do was to break his nose, and that was only because he practically gave himself to me on a silver platter. Even laying there on the floor, bleeding and unblinking, nose broken by the heeled boot of a spiteful, silly young man, Harry was still better than I could ever hope to be. Yes, in these private moments, the raven haired boy, former cupboard dweller, and Savior of Wizarding Britain was Harry to me. 

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

Leaning back into the corner of his cell, he allowed his eyes to flutter closed. With a heavy sigh, he continues his rambling musings. His mouth already having taken on such an unfamiliar shape, he allowed the slight smile to continue playing across his lips.Images of Harry flitting in front of his mind's eye. He wasn't sure when "The Savior of Wizarding Britain" had gone from being Potter, to Harry in his mind, but Harry is who he was. No longer did he wish to spit out the other boy's sir name as if it was something distasteful that Draco wished to dislodge from his tongue. No… while Harry was not a friend, he was certainly nothing distasteful, in spite of all the hateful, and vitriolic things Draco had spat in the direction of Harry and his friends. Thinking of it, perhaps that is when _'Potter'_ had become Harry. At least, in Draco's mind anyway. The change had come when Draco had stopped snarking, and started noticing the other boy for who he really was, not who Draco had been told he was, or who he had assumed him to be. While Harry was still small for his age, regular meals at school had helped him begin to fill out nicely. He was taller, and wider, and after seeing so much death, looked older than his years, but even Draco could not deny he was a handsome boy. Several inches shorter than Draco, he was still a bit wider through the shoulder. Years of quiditch, as well as running from a lunatic for a year had honed him into a lean, wiry piece of work. His hair was too black, and too unruly to be natural, and his eyes were such a startling green as to appear to be a glamour, and yet it all combined to make Harry into a stunning vision that haunted Draco's life by day, and his dreams by night. 

 

The tall, thin Slytherin has always assumed that Harry lived solely to vex him (killing of the Dark Lord just being an amusing side hobby). He had been raised to believe that Harry was a lucky, no talent that had the world handed to him on a silver platter, simply by virtue of having survived having the killing curse tossed at him. Draco had assumed him to be an arrogant, attention hungry prat. Even accusing him of such on numerous occasions. However now, Draco had nothing, if not time to think, and to reflect. As he replayed his memories, he realized that his father, and by extension himself, had gotten it so very VERY wrong. Where he had originally seen false modesty, it turned out to be actual modesty. The was a humbleness to the boy that Draco didn't understand. He understood it even less as an occasional Daily Prophet got passed amongst the prisoners, and tales of Harry's actions before, and during the final battle became known beyond the teacher's lounge of Hogwarts. Draco was certain the paper was only allowed in as another form of torture. A way to show them everything that they were missing. That Wizarding Britain was happily continuing without them, and that they were neither cared for, or missed. In fact, it was a guarantee that the paper would show up if there was some piece in it about how all Death Eaters should ROT in Azkaban, and the Malfoys in particular. 

 

But Draco cared not for these opinions, particularly since he agreed with most of them, though he would still wish his mother free. No, Draco didn't care because along with these glimpses into public opinion, he was also afforded chances to see Harry. The boy, nae man, for indeed in the months that Draco and his family had been awaiting trial, the boy had turned into a man, and a rather fit one, if the photos were to be believed… This young man was more extraordinary than Draco could have imagined. He had heard rumors while in school, but had dismissed them as more of _'Potter's'_ attention seeking grand standing. A run in with a 3 headed dog? A Basilisk? The resurrection of old snake face, and the subsequent battle? Merlin's baggy Y fronts. It was a wonder that he wasn't a gibbering idiot, sitting rocking in a corner in Saint Mungo's. Every single year he had been at Hogwarts seemed to bring a new peril, a new tragedy. And through it all he had remained a kind, loving and protective boy, even to those like Draco who had done nothing to earn his kindness, or his protection. Draco had made it his sworn duty to make _'Potter'_ as miserable as possible, and yet Harry had risked his own life to save Draco from the flames. As he held on to that muscular back as it flew them up, and out of the way of danger, Draco had known that in that moment, Harry wasn't just The Savior of the Wizarding World, but he was Draco's savior too. 

 

Draco leaned into the corner, continuing his reverie until a rough, rasping voice shattered his quiet. 

 

_"Eh! What's that look for, poppet? Day dreaming about all the fun we'll be 'aving?"_

 

There was a sudden clanging against the bars of his cell, and Draco jumped before he could stay himself. He dared not look into his keepers eyes, preferring to not show the man any more weakness than was needed. 

 

_"Don't worry, pretty one. We'll get to play soon enough. 'Ere. Something to keep you company."_

 

Draco was aware of a fluttering sound, but didn't open his eyes until he heard the gaolers hollow laugh continue down the halls, knowing he had found someone else to torment as he heard a scream several doors down from where he and his parents were kept. When Draco opened his eyes, he saw a somewhat tattered copy of the Daily Prophet tossed onto the floor of his cell. He could just make out Harry's face, and scampered over to it. He was greeted with the headlines of:

 

_"Death Eater Trials Soon Over!"_ and _"Harry Potter to Return to Hogwarts to Assist with Rebuilding!"_ there was another headline that wiped the smile off of Draco's face faster than anything his gaolers had said so far: _"Golden Boy and his Golden Bride?"_ Below it was a picture of Harry, and Ginerva Weasley attending some function. Her smile was wide and inviting, his was on his lips, but didn't reach his eyes. Draco just sighed, and settled himself in to read about the world that would continue to pass him by. 

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

Draco read every paper that made their way to him. He no longer offered them to his parents, as they made his mother sadder, and his father's rants louder, and longer, that is on the rare occasion that he could, or would acknowledge Draco and Narcissa. Since the cells immediately around them were empty, he kept the papers for himself. Secreting away as best he could any articles about Harry, and using the rest of the paper in an attempt to pad out his wafer thin mattress. All but one of the guards made no comment about him keeping the papers. The one that did comment, Draco still wished hadn't. 

 

_"Awww, isn't that sweet, poppet. Trying to make the bed more comfortable for me? Making it easier on my knees?"_

 

Draco blanched, and then turned scarlet at the man's crude words. While he was no blushing virgin, he had never done _'that'_. Not even the disgruntled Death Eater filth that had befouled his home, had be allowed such liberties with his person. Being the Malfoy heir still had some privileges, small though they were. The very thought of doing that, in this place, with these _'people'_ made his stomach churn, and knot, his blood seeming to run cold. Not for the first time, he wondered if it wouldn't be easier to just end the anguish. But then he would hear his mother's sobs in the night, and know that he could no more leave her in here without him, than he could visit such heartbreak upon her by taking the cowards way out. No matter how much he hurt, he knew taking his life would hurt her more. 

 

So instead, he read. He read until the already weak sunlight in his cell faded to nothingness. After that he talked to his parents, or at least to his mother as best he could.Occasionally Lucius would have a moment of clarity, and speak with them, but those times seemed to be further, and far between. Sometimes his mother was not interested in talking, lost in her own thoughts. Consumed by her own inner battles of what if… In those times he talked quietly to himself, just so he could remember the sound of his own voice, so that he didn't feel so desperately alone. When he got tired of talking to himself he thought.He thought of the things he would change if he could do it over again, and wondered what kind of difference those changes would make. What if he had not made fun of Hagrid and Ron? What if he had become friends with Harry, instead of enemies. What if he had questioned more, and followed less? What if he hadn't been such a coward, and had said sooner that his thoughts had slowly become his own. That he no longer hated Harry, and that he didn't believe the mud-blood rhetoric. What if…

 

But none of that happened, because he was a coward. Because he was a coward, living with a madman. Because he was a coward, living with a madman, while trying to save his family the best way he knew how. So he kept to himself, kept his mouth shut, and prayed that the other Death Eaters would forget that Lucius' _"Pretty pussy boy of a failure"_ was even in the manor. He kept to himself, and kept his own confidences, save for the rare times when his Godfather, Severus, was in residence. Then he spent as much time with the man as he could, quietly taking Occlumency lessons, and hoping he wasn't as much of a disappointment to his Godfather as he seemed to be to everyone, save for his mother. He took Occlumency in the hopes that the mad man his father called his Lord, would never successfully make it into his mind. If that happened, they would surely all be dead, for Draco doubted that the half-blood maniac would take kindly to knowing Draco's true views of him. Draco knew there where those that believed the maniacs tales of being a pure-blood whose parents had died. However Draco had heard the rumors, and he had heard Harry himself speak of Tom Riddle's past. At the end of the day, if he were to believe anyone, it wouldn't be a crazed snake man who delighted in killing the weak and the helpless, but in a boy his own age who, to his knowledge, had never lied to him. 

 

Draco had lied about many things in his short life, but there was only one he was actually just a wee bit proud of. When they had dragged Draco into the room where Granger was on the floor, writhing and screaming, his heart sank, and his stomach tied itself into pained knots as if he had eaten one of Hagrid's rock cakes. When they shoved him over the puffed up, swollen face of the black haired boy, he had known instantly it was Harry. It wasn't the face, it was the eyes. Those eyes that had visited him countless times in his dreams. Those eyes that now looked into his frantic grey ones and silently implored him to say anything but yes. The next thing Draco knew it was frantic mayhem, and house elves, and half hearted dueling he had to make look good, and he had NEVER EVER been so HAPPY to lose to Harry Potter in his whole entire LIFE! When his crazy little house elf had Apparated them all away, it had taken every ounce of his self control not to cheer, and whoop loudly. He knew there would be a high price to pay for this failure, but he also knew that with Harry free, they at least had some chance of besting the madman that now called Malfoy Manor home. 

 

The time between that fateful day in the manor, and their face off in The Room of Requirement seemed to speed by. The snake faced maniac was none too pleased, particularly as it seemed that Perfect, Saint Potter and his friends were up to something that was definitely rattling the maniacs cage. Draco found himself having to play good little Slytherin and Death Eater back at Hogwarts, while all the while hoping and praying that the Golden Trio would find a way to bring an end to the madness sooner, rather than later. 

 

Perhaps, Draco thought ironically, that he should have been careful of what he wished for. For, from his vantage point, his keepers in Azkaban treated him no better than the maniac and his cronies, and as of now, had promised him far worse treatment than he had received thus far. No matter. Draco was resigned to his fate. Choices, though not always fully his own had brought him here, and so, he would learn to exist with them, as living with them was a bit beyond his realm of acceptance at the moment. Exist. He could do that, certainly. 

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

Over the next few days, the prison seemed to be a whirlwind of activity. It seemed that Draco's new existence was steam rolling towards him, ready or not. Every morning, and sometimes in the evening as well, a Daily Prophet was being shoved into his cell. In the morning, he read the previous day's evening addition, and then moved on to the newest edition. He read every word, front page to back, and while he took it all in, his most rapt attention was centered on information about the trials, and about their one particular, daily attendee. The paper it seemed was all too happy to highlight the fact that Harry had been in attendance at each and every trial, and that his testimony was directly influential in some of the sentences. Death Eaters it seemed were getting sentences ranging from long vacations in Azkaban, to being kissed by the one or two Dementors that the ministry still had on its payroll. Supporters of the maniac, and his mental minions were getting sentences ranging from probation, which came along with various restrictions, to time in Azkaban. It seemed that the Chosen One had been asked what he knew of the various accused that sat before the court, and their participation. It was that testimony, the paper said, that had been instrumental in some of the Wizengamot's sentencing. 

 

Draco's mind was spinning. Supporters were getting probation… Was there hope for his mother yet? Draco realized that he didn't know if his mother had ever actually been a marked Death Eater. If she wasn't she may just have a chance to be rid of this foul place! Draco once again prayed to whom ever might be listening that his mother was tried for the facts, and not just for her misfortune of having the last name of Malfoy. Draco looked at the wretched black mark that marred the otherwise smooth expanse of his lower left arm and cringed. For what seemed like the millionth time since it had been etched into his skin with a feeling akin to being burned with acid, Draco scratched at the accursed black mark. There was no hope for him, or his father, but there may yet still be hope for his mother. 

 

As he sat in his cell, idly scratching at the mark, when his breath caught, had that fucking snake MOVED? Draco closed his eyes and tried to will away the images that came unbidden to him. The burning sensation in the mark when one was being called before Voldemort; The use of the mark to torture his followers, far more painful than even the Unforgivables. The accursed snake, writhing on his arm as old snake face hissed and cursed in parseltongue. Full of impotent rage at a boy who had not even reached legal majority yet. Even then Draco wondered how his followers thought it sane or normal, Voldemort's obsession with Harry Potter. The moment that the mark had seared his flesh, Draco knew he had made the biggest mistake of his young life. For with the mark came a clarity that he had not previously known. With the mark, came the knowledge that the THING his father called his lord, and master, the thing that his father bowed down for, was absolutely, without a doubt, Barking. Fucking. MAD. 

 

To think that his father, a once proud and noble man, bowed his head, bent his neck, dropped to his knees to kiss the soiled hems of the robes, and the cold, parchment dry hand of such a lunatic! Draco knew then that the man before him was no longer his father. Not the one he had known and loved. The man that looked so much like him that they were oft mistaken for one another was but the mere husk of what he formerly was. Consumed by hate, and greed. Greed for power, and status, and Circe only knew what all. Draco just knew that it had destroyed his father, and taken his family down with him. Nothing else could explain what is father thought it perfectly normal, and reasonable to grovel in the dirt before such a creature as was his dark lord. 

 

Draco squeezed his eyes tighter, willing away the images that accompanied his memories of his time living with Voldemort. The phantom pains of remembrance being almost too much to bare. Draco tried to guide his thoughts, and without warning a new image flashed through his mind. This one was so sharp, and clear, he felt like he was reliving it again. Accompanying it was a feeling that had confused and angered him at the time, but now one he more fully understand. This memory was of the duel that he and Harry had when that fool, Lockhard was the DADA teacher. He saw himself summon the snake, and then heard… ohhhh what he heard. Harry, tongue flashing and slithering past his full lips. He was speaking Parseltongue. Snake language, as his uncouth classmates had called it. Why should Potter have such a gift! He was enraged at the idea of a half-blood having a legacy that should have been his. But along with that rage, came another feeling, a roiling in his gut he didn't understand. Then there was the hot flush on his cheeks, and suddenly his pants felt way too tight. He grabbed at his school robes, wrapping them around himself tighter, grateful for the distraction of Snape having to dispose of his conjured snake. When the dust had settled, 3/4 of the school seemed to be terrified of what they didn't understand, and Draco had been simply furious that here was another thing Saint Potter was good at, that he was not. 

 

As the memory of Harry speaking parseltongue played itself out in a continuous loop in Draco's mind, he began to notice that his usually baggy prison issued bottoms were suddenly tight. Draco had just pulled the ratty trousers down past his aching member, in the hopes of relieving some of the pressure when he came with a toe curling ferocity. His cock, untouched, spilling and twitching. His cum, splattering itself across the flagstone floor, all at no more urging than the sibilant sounds pouring from between red, pouty lips. Potter's lips. Draco leaned against the wall, and tucked himself away again. As he took several deep, steading breaths, all he could think was ' _Well, I certainly hadn't planned for THAT.'_ Draco eventually climbed onto his Prophet padded cot, curled onto his side, pulled up his thread bare blanket, and fell into the first restful nights sleep he had since coming to this accursed place. _Saint Potter_ to the rescue once more, it would seem… 

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

Restful that was until Draco was jarred awake by a gaolers control wand being dragged back and forth across his bars. 

 

_"WAKE UP, POPPET!!! Seems today is the day!!! Looking forward to being able to welcome you to Azkaban_ ** _right proper by nightfall._** _"_  

 

The last words spoken with such lecherous glee that it made Draco's skin crawl. Well then, this was it, wasn't it. Draco attempted to run his fingers through his hair, and ran his hands down the front of his shabby, prison issued garments. He attempted to wash as best he could in the tiny sink in the corner of his sell. Just because he felt like death warmed over, was no reason he had to go to the ministry looking like it as well. 

 

Draco's door slid open as magical manacles slid around hit wrists. He started to laugh, almost hysterically as his brain began to sing song, _magical manacles, magical manacles_. The tiny part of his mind that was holding out to Draco's sanity for him cleared his throat and reminded him that it wouldn't calm his mother's nerves any for him to have gone mad already. With that sobering thought, Draco turned his head to the left, and caught sight of his parents for the first time in months. His father, gaunt, and flying the 'mad as a hatter' banner for both of them, it would appear. His mother, was thinner, but smiled valiantly at him. Her hair was grubby, and pulled back from her face in a messy plait. He returned her smile, and tried to no shiver as the memory of a recent conversation slithered along his spine. It seemed that one of the gaolers was enamored of her plait, as _"it will give me something' to 'old on to, won't it now, poppet."_ Draco was sure that if his mother had access to a butter knife at the moment, she would have cut the hair off herself. He continued to smile at her, even while noticing the light in her eyes was dimmed, and the circles under her eyes made her look even more haunted. Though for all that, she was still a handsome woman, and Draco smiled as she looked at him steadily, and pulled her self up a little bit straighter, carried her head a little bit higher. She was the epitome of humbled, but not broken, and Draco knew he could do no better than to try to emulate her at this moment. 

 

As they made their way to the front hallway to sign out for transport, they were kept company by the cat calls and harangues of their other warders. 

 

_"Don't be long now, we've got plans for you."_ That brought on that slithering, creeping feeling along his spine again. 

 

_"Ohhhh look, taking the pets for a walk."_ and _"Smile pretty, poppet. It will most likely be the last time that you do!"_

 

There were far lewder comments that Draco tried to ignore, concentrating instead on trying to be strong for his mother. As they made there way to the ground level, the jeering and comments got louder, and as they reached the front halls it seemed that all hell had broken loose. Draco noticed that a group of 15-20 Aurors, judging by the colors of the robes were milling about at the exit desk. 

 

_‘Salazar's leather kirtle, is this all for us?'_  

 

As they got closer to the group, Draco could here the strains of an argument. The figure in the center of the group who was wearing light cream colored robes, (and REALLY who would wear anything light in this Goddess forsaken place?!?!) was gesturing wildly, as he (the voice was definitely male) ranted about _'property'_ and _'unacceptable'_ and ' _better than that'_. 

 

Draco dropped his head, and tried to still his rapidly beating heart. He had no idea what was going on, but he wanted it finished, over with, DONE. The feeling of forestalling the inevitable was working to fray the last of his surviving nerves. He wanted to scream at the gesturing figure. To tell him to leave off, and stop prolonging the agony. Instead he left his head down, his eyes examining the dirty, and cracked flagstones of the floor where he stood. Draco was snapped out of his floor inspection when he heard the voice snap _"Clean clothes, NOW!"_ and then felt the crackle of wild magic as guards scrambled to do the man's bidding. 

 

Draco was staring at the back of the cloaked figure as he turned to face him. In an instant Draco's world started to wink out of existence as his brain, incapable of processing one more thing began to shut down on him. The last thing he remembered, was staring into the most impossibly green eyes he had ever seen. Potter's eyes. And then everything had gone blissfully quiet, and then softly faded to black.

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

When Draco finally came to, it was to the knowledge that he was wrapped in a somewhat awkward, and yet extremely comforting embrace.With a bit of shift, he was able look up into his mother's soft blue gaze. They had been placed in a holding cell. Their manacles were still in place, however they had been sat on a set of benches in such a manner that Narcissa had been able to hold her only child while he had been unconscious. As Draco slowly began to right himself, and slip away from his mother's arms she placed a gentle kiss on to his temple as she softly whispered into his ear "Welcome back, my Dragon."

 

Draco sat up completely, and then nuzzled himself into Narcissa's shoulder, smiling to himself at her soft sigh of contentment. Strange that the most tender moments he had been afforded with his mother in recent memory, should come while they sat in a holding cell, waiting to be tried by the Wizengamot. 

 

Eventually Draco sat up completely straight, so that he could better take in his surroundings. The first thing he noticed, was that they were in clean clothes, and they had been spelled clean. He knew it to be a spell, as he could feel the residual magic of it tingling on his skin, and scalp where the cleaning charms had been used. Next, he noticed that they were not alone in the holding area, though it would appear that everyone was keeping mostly to themselves. Even his father had sat himself a bit away from his mother, and himself. Lucius too had been cleaned, though the mad gleam in his eye was a present as it had been for the last longest while. 

 

Draco looked around, and saw more than a few familiar faces. Faces that still came to him in his nightmares. Some of those here, had been present in the manor during the dark maniacs reign of terror. Draco knew of their lack of innocence, just as surely as he knew of his own guilt. As he continued to assess those around him, he saw the sneers, and the contempt they had for him and his family. They wore it as plainly as the Death Eater masks they had been so foolishly proud of. Draco kept his own contempt to himself. It wasn't just contempt for the broken people around him, but contempt for their hatred and twisted ideas. Contempt for himself that he had ever thought to embrace such madness. 

 

He knew not how long they sat, only that at some point his legs grew weary, and his ass eventually fell asleep. He tried not to fidget too much, not wishing to disturb his mother who appeared to have either fallen asleep, or into a meditative trance. Though they chose not to disturb the air around them with idle chatter, Draco was comforted none the less by the warmth, and nearness of his beloved mother. 

 

There was no way to tell the passing of time, as there were no windows in the holding area. Once they eventually brought them food Draco knew it must be lunch, or there about. It was simple fare, and yet it was like having a Yule time feast, compared to what they had been getting in Azkaban. A sandwich with bread that appeared to have been made that day instead of sometime in that month. An apple, green and sweet and blessedly free of worm holes. Pumpkin juice that was clean, and cold, and appeared to be free of the 'additions' that were often found in their meager Azkaban offering. Off to the side of the tray, was a small chocolate sweet. Draco once again, and a bit maddeningly, found himself close to tears. So much he realized that he had taken for granted, that it now left him weepy to be shown such simple kindnesses. 

 

As he took his first bite of the sandwich, he had to stifle a groan. For the first time in months, he was tasting real bread, and real meat. And not just any bread and meat, but his favorite, he was tasting roast beef. His eyes closed, and he savored the spices and juices exploding across his tongue. While the maniac had been in residence, any such pleasures were reserved for him, and his lap dogs. Draco had been lucky to not starve in his own home. And now? The best meal he had gotten in months, was to be found in a ministry holding cell. 

 

He sat with his mother in companionable silence and ate their humble, but much appreciated meal. When they both finished, and reached for their apples at the same time, they found themselves breaking into peals of laughter as the resounding CRUNCH of them biting into the fruit had been so loud, as to make the other occupants of the cell start suddenly, and glare in their direction. They nodded their apologies, but continued to giggle. Like two small children caught out doing something naughty, but not all that apologetic. Draco knew that his mother had despised most of those still in the cell with them, and if she could make them jump in startelement as they had often done to her, then more's the better. Having finished the apple, Draco sat and savored his pumpkin juice. In the past, he would have sneered at the suggestion of a Malfoy drinking from paper cups like a plebeian. That was the past. In the present, two Malfoys were very grateful to have anything to drink at all. Regardless of how the libation had been brought to them. 

 

The chocolate was saved as long as possible, being popped into his mouth only when it threatened to desert him through melting away to nothingness.

 

Eventually, the Malfoys were the last people in the holding cell, and Draco couldn't help a quirky little smirk playing across is lips as he tried to cheer himself with thoughts of _'Saving the best for last, I see.'_ Draco tried to maintain an air of calm for his mother's sake, though inside he was nothing more than a quivering mess. The next time someone came for them, Draco knew that it was to lead he and his father to their well earned doom. His hopes were still high that some higher power would still see fit to take mercy on his mother. 

 

They sat there for what seemed and eternity, though he knew it was most likely only a few hours after lunch. When he heard several pairs of boots echoing down the hall, he knew without seeing that they were coming for them. Their time, had finally come. 

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

The cell doors opened and in marched six red robed Aurors. It would appear that there were two for each of them. It was then that Draco realized he had not paid much attention to how the other prisoners had been escorted out. He wasn't sure it was possible, but he actually felt even smaller. Wedged between the two men that stood a good head taller than him, read robes snapping and flaring in a way that would have done his Godfather, Severus proud. They marched through the dark, winding corridors in near silence; the quiet being broken only by the solid thud of boot heels meeting solid flooring. 

 

There own prison issued footware barely had soles, let alone heels. The Malfoys could have been three ghosts, so silently did they glide along next to their crimson clad escorts. 

 

When they finally reached the courtroom chambers, and were ushered through the imposing black doors, Draco couldn't help but let slip a gasp. The room was packed floor to ceiling with spectators taking up 1/4 of the space in the chamber, and the other 2/3 was filled with the hundreds of members of the Wizengamot. In the center of what could only be described at a pit, was a black chair with wrist, ankle, neck and head manacles in place. To say the it was imposing was like saying Voldemort had been a little bit mean. It was terrifying! If Draco hadn't been wedged between his two escorts, he was certain his knees would have given way.  

 

They were ushered over to low level benches that were in front of the witnesses (spectators, audience?) and behind the wall that encircled 3/4 of the pit where the accused would eventually sit. The benches had could sit two comfortable, seemed to be made of some type of reinforced stone, and once they were sat upon them, their ankle shackles magically attached to bolts that appeared between their feet. 

 

Draco's mind was reeling. He had heard rumors while at Hogwarts that Harry had stood trial one summer, most likely in this very room, for the use of underage magic of all ridiculous things, if the rumors were to be believed. At the time he had scoffed, and chalked it up to more _'Potter'_ grand standing. Later, he had read in the Prophet that it had indeed happened. That Harry had stood trial in front of the full Wizengamot for underage magic, and for using magic in the presence of a muggle (his cousin. Deadly? No. Dastardly? No, that didn’t seem to be it. Ah yes. Dudley. Dudley Dursley, if memory served.) The fact that his cousin already knew he was a wizard, and the fact that he did magic to save their lives seemed to be of little importance it would seem.

 

_"A shameful moment when the wizarding world had turned on its Savior, attempting to discredit him, instead of heading his warnings."_ was the simpering line from one of the many articles Draco had saved. There were many such articles after The Final Battle. It seemed that Former Death Eaters were not the only ones inclined to recanting…

 

If but a fraction of what he read was true, he had to wonder why Potter hadn’t told the lot of them to go get stuffed, leaving the ungrateful gits to sort Moldy Voldy out for themselves. 

 

The populace in general seemed willing to turn on him at a moments notice, if their school experiences were any indication of wizarding fickleness as a whole. But to learn how he’d been mis-treated by the adults who were supposed to protect and support him…

 

Draco let his eyes quickly sweep the room once more, and couldn't imagine standing down there, alone, younger even than they were now, facing the stony faces and mocking sneers of the accusers. People who Harry had risked his life for time and again, only to have them turn on him at a moments notice. 

 

The one thing that Draco had noticed with all of his reading of late, was that the wizarding world seemed to run painfully hot and cold about their savior over the years. They either loved him, or reviled him, oft times in the same breath, it would seem. Draco thought it was a testament to Potters kindness, and large heart that he hadn't told them all to sod off, and stomped off to another wizarding country that would appreciate him, and not expect a child to fight an adult’s war. 

 

Draco was snapped out of his reverie when he heard a booming voice say _"Bring forth Lucius Malfoy to stand trial!"_ What and odd choice of words, he thought… considering his father would most definitely NOT be standing...

 

Two Aurors stood, and escorted his father to the chair seated in the pit. Everything but the head manacles wound their way around Lucius as he sat there mumbling to himself. If he did not have the neck manacle on, he most likely would have been rocking as well. There was a low murmuring that went through the room, eventually building to a higher grumble before the room was called to order.  

 

The Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt presided over the trial. Draco sat, and listened, horrified along with the rest in attendance as Lucius' numerous follies and evils were lain bare for all to see. As the list of offenses piled on top of each other like logs at a bonfire, Draco was rooted to the spot. No only because of the manacles, but because the weight of what his father had done was sitting on him like so many building stones. By the time all of the accusations were read, Draco felt as if every last fallen brick from Gryffindor tower was sitting on his chest. Crushing him with the weight of the hate, and the pure evil that he had grown up with. He was disgusted by how easily, and for how long he had simply accepted it all without question. 

 

Draco sat, numb. Listening as multiple witnesses stepped forward and told their stories. The more people spoke, the quieter the room got. Eventually the only sounds heard, other than the simple questions and answers between the minister and witnesses, was the quiet sobbing that was taking place in various spots around the room. As the inquires continued, Lucius sat and mumbled, and rocked as much as the neck collar would allow. 

 

Eventually the final question was asked: "Is there anyone here, other than his fellow accused, that wishes to speak in the accused defense?" The silence was deafening. In a room of hundreds, not one person had a good thing they were willing to publicly acknowledge about Lucius Malfoy. For all his posturing about greatness, about position, about money and power and the importance of the so called purity of blood. For all these things that Lucius had thought were so important, none of them would have been as important as having one friend willing to stand at his side, or even in his shadow. Draco sat awash in anger, and grief. Grief for what his father had done, and anger that those actions had stolen away the father he had once known. 

 

After several moments of silence, The Minister asked Lucius directly if he had anything to say in his defense. Much to Draco's surprise, he did have something to say. However it was a disjointed ramble about purity, and how he was living up to his ancestors wishes, and how, how, how… he wasn't sure how, but what, and where and of course! Of course! Of COURSE! By the end of the rambling part tirade, part whimpering, mumbling inner dialogue that seemed to be spilling out beyond his control the room was once again quiet. 

 

Minister Shacklebolt sat staring at the ruined man before him for several long moments before calling for a vote from the Wizengamot members. The first vote was for innocent, and Draco was not surprised to see so much as a twitch amongst the arms of those with a vote. Next was guilty, and suddenly there was a sea of cloth in the air. Next came those that wished to abstain from voting, and Draco was surprised to see any hands go up at all, though there were a few. Once the vote was taken, the Minister stood, and looked down upon Lucius in the pit. Draco found himself shivering, thinking once again how intimidating this all must have been to a young Harry Potter.

 

Eventually The Minister looked to the Aurors in attendance "Please return Mr. Malfoy to his seat to await sentencing." Two Aurors quickly went to where Lucius was still sitting and mumbling, removed his restraints from the chair and quickly, and quietly as possible resettled him back on one of the benches. Draco stole one quick look at the ruin that used to be his father, and returned his attentions to the courtroom. 

 

_"Bring forth Narcissa Black Malfoy to stand trial!"_

 

The Aurors swiftly moved to his mother's side, and escorted her to the pit. The magic of the place must have deemed her less of a threat, as only the leg and wrist restraints slid into place on her. Very quickly the same proceedings began for his mother, though in her case, the witnesses could only say that she may have been present at certain Death Eater meetings, but had never participated in them directly. While it was true that Voldemort had lived in her home, that seemed to be not of her choosing. As people spoke, it seemed that while Narcissa may have seemed cold, and stand offish to some, that was hardly worthy of time in Azkaban. 

 

As the questions and answers continued, there was suddenly an outburst from the viewing gallery.

 

"She's DEATH EATER SCUM!!!! While she may have not held the wand, she did nothing to stop it being raised!!!" 

 

Suddenly, a wild eyed man lunged at his mother, and before the Aurors could move, a stunning spell had brought the man low. As wands were only allowed on the Aurors there were a few moments of panic before a quiet male voice said "Sorry about that, still getting a hold of my wild magic."

 

Draco had to quickly duck his head and stifle a actual laugh while he rolled his eyes and the word _'Potter'_ danced through his head. 

 

There were several more moments of chaos as the would be assailant was carted off, and the trial could continue. Eventually information coming to light that while Narcissa may have been married to Voldemort's right hand, she herself had never been marked as a Death Eater. She was in fact willing to swear to that under Veritaserum, and to be examined for any spells or glamours, potions etc. that may be attempting to hide the dark mark.

 

His mother's trial went the same way that Lucius' trial had gone, though when it came time for the Minister to ask if there was anyone that wished to speak on behalf of Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's breath caught as a tall, stately woman stood to speak. On first glance, one would be forgiven for thinking that mad aunt Bella had returned from beyond the veil. Once your heart stopped racing though, it wasn't hard to see that the woman before you is not in fact an exact copy of Bellatrix. Taller, hair less wild, hips fuller, and the marked lack of crazy behind her eyes all point to her being a relative, but not the same. The woman could have only been his mother's elder sister, Andromeda Black Tonks. 

 

"Minister. Esteemed members of the Wizengamot. Attended." She began, bowing low to each group as she named them. "I stand here, in the hopes that I can shed some light on what it meant to be raised as a Black" Andromeda then went to speak eloquently about being raised with pure blood ideas, about keeping oneself apart from the larger wizarding world, while still maintaining a place in it. She spoke of family, and how all choices, if you were being a good Black, were done with the betterment of family in mind. At the last she gave a bitter little chuckle, as it was common knowledge that she had been disowned for marrying a muggle born wizard. She spoke of the sister she had known, and the sister she hoped to get to know. She spoke for several moments, and then thanked them all for allowing her a voice. When she returned to her seat, Draco found himself scrubbing at his eyes to keep unshed tears at bay. Listening to the aunt he had never met, had given him a glimpse of his mother he had never seen before. A mother he wished he had a chance to know. 

 

When quiet finally returned, Minister Shacklebolt asked if there was anyone else who wished to speak. After a few moments, he began with "Please escort…"when his words were drowned out by an upswell of sound from nearly every quarter. Standing in the space recently vacated by his aunt, a lone figure stood. Now garbed in deep emerald green dress robes, Draco didn't need to see the man's face to know who it was. He would recognize that unruly mop of raven black hair anywhere. At the podium stood Harry Potter. With a resigned sigh, he knew his mother's fate was sealed. 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

Draco's mind was screaming. 

 

_'NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!'_

 

He knew Potter hated his father, and if Draco were being honest with himself, Potter had every reason to hate the man. He had either tried to kill Potter himself, or those the young man considered friends, and family on more than one occasion. Draco had no doubt that if the situation were reversed, he would hate the man as well. But his mother? Of course she was married to the man that tried to kill Potter. Was that enough of a reason to hate her too? It seemed to go against everything he thought he knew (and had once despised) about the Gryffindor's high moral standards. Would he really take this opportunity to punish Lucius and him through his mother? 

 

As Draco sat reeling, the Minister's deep, rich baritone rang throughout the courtroom. 

 

"SILENCE!" The word rang out as clear as a church bell, no need for a sonorous charm to amplify it. "If you cannot, or will not maintain decorum, I shall clear this room of all but those who are necessary."

 

Quickly the room returned to its previous near silent state, though there was a low level buzzing that the Minister seemed to deem acceptable, given the circumstances. When the room was once again to his satisfaction, he turned to the man standing at the podium, plastered a quizzical, and somewhat feral grin on his dark face and said: "Would you please state your name for the record." At that a titter went around the room that was quickly silenced with a glare. "State your name for the record, and state your business with the court this afternoon."

 

"My name is Harry James Potter, and I am here to speak regarding one Narcissa Black Malfoy."

 

_'No!'_ That was the only word that kept repeating in Draco's head. ' _No!'_ So cold. So impersonal. So clinical. ' _NO!'_ This couldn't be happening! He had hope, damn it! He knew he shouldn't, but he did. He had hope, and now every awful thing his father had done, every awful thing HE had done to the man standing there would come back to shatter his world into a million pieces too small to ever make whole again. _NO!_

 

Draco couldn't help himself, he lunged forward in his restraints and just screamed "NO!" Before the Minister could admonish him to be quiet, Potter himself turned to look at Draco. The look he saw on Potter's face chilled him to the bone, and he fell quiet instantly. The bastard was smiling at him. At that moment, Draco knew his hope was gone. The Malfoy mask slid quickly back into place, his eyes his only tell as they darted like sparrows from the Minister's face, to Potter, to his mother who looked resigned, and back to the Minister again. 

 

Minister Shacklebolt cleared his throat… "So, Mr. Potter. You wish to share knowledge of the accused? Please, proceed."

 

With none of the previous uncertainty or discomfort with speaking that Draco had become used to seeing in Potter, Harry raised his head, looked at the Minister and began. 

 

"Thank you, Minister Shacklebolt, members of the Wizengamot, and all those in attendance. I do not know Narcissa Malfoy Black well, but I do know this… She saved my life, and for that I feel I am in her debt."

 

Potter had barely finished the sentence when there was a roar like thunder! Hundreds of voices all speaking at once to be heard! 

 

" _What?"_

_"How could this be?"_

_"Lies!"_

_"Preposterous!"_

_"He's been Imperiused to say such things! NEVER!"_

 

Potter didn't reply to any of this. He simply stood, ram rod straight, with his magic curling, and rolling off of him in electric blue waves. 

 

When order was once again restored, after much yelling, and an eventual Sonorused _SILENCE!!!_ from the Minister, Potter continued to speak as if he had never been interrupted by the previous outbursts. "All I can tell you, is that the woman here accused, lied to Voldemort. Yes, she did it for many reasons, not the least of all to save her own son. However, if she had not lied, at risk to her own life, and that of her family, I would not be here now, telling you this truth. I feel I owe her a debt, as should you all."

 

And that is when Draco's tears began to fall in earnest. 

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

It took The Minister another good 10 minutes to quiet the outraged occupants of the courtroom. All the while Potter stood there smiling as if he had a Cheering Charm stuck to him; his magic now calmer, and rolling off him in waves of the lightest blues, and soft greens. 

 

Once order was restored, The Minster asked Potter if he was willing to swear to his testimony with Veritaserum. There was another outraged outburst at the suggestion that the _"Savior of the Wizarding Worlds word wasn't good enough now"_ , but Potter just continued to smile adding that "I would be happy to provide a pensive memory as well, if that would make any difference."

 

Draco, having finally gotten his emotions back under control, simply sat in stunned silence as you listened to the last few moments of Potter's testimony. When he was done, he thanked them all for their time, and stepped away as if he had simply finished an oral presentation in Transfiguration.

 

Next, his mother was given a chance to speak, just as his father had done. Narcissa broke with protocols and begun by thanking Harry Potter for his unexpected, but much appreciated kind words. Draco found himself smirking when he noticed the blush that was creeping all the way up to Potter's ears. _'Well, I guess some things are still the same.'_ he mused to himself. Narcissa then went on to thank The Minister, the other members of the Wizengamot, and those who had taken their time to ensure that some semblance of justice be done. 

 

Sitting tall, her voice humbled, so low that the room went quiet so as not to miss a word. 

 

"I would first like to thank those that have spoken on my behalf. I am humbled by their willingness to do so, even though speaking out for me can be easily described as a not very popular position to take." At that there was a low murmur, and several chuckles throughout the chamber. With a smile Narcissa continued. 

 

"I may not have always been the nicest of people. And I may not have always made the best choices. I will say that the choices I made, I made for my family. While I never killed for them, I did lie for them, and if it meant saving them, I would again. Lying to 'him' was the easiest thing I have ever done, because there simply was no other choice. While I did it to save my son, I also knew that Harry Potter, was the only real chance to save us all. So much responsibility on such strong young shoulders… I am not proud of all the choices I have made, but I hope that if given another chance, I can prove myself to be worthy of being the kind of person Harry Potter would be proud to speak on behalf of. Thank you."

 

There was a long silence before the Minister quietly said, "Thank you, Lady Malfoy. Aurors, please escort her to her seat again." Narcissa turned to The Minister, smiled and bowed her head slightly, simultaneously acknowledging him, and thanking him for the use of her title. 

 

Once his mother was sat beside him again, Draco leaned in, and pressed as much of himself against her as he was able. She kissed the top of his head before leaning away to say "All for you, my Dragon. Always for you." Before he had time to say more than a quick "I love you too, Mère" Minister Shacklebolt's voice was ringing bell clear once again in the courtroom. 

 

_"Bring forth Draco Malfoy to stand trial."_

 

Draco sat up straight, smiled at his mother once more, and then resigned himself to his fate. The same two Aurors that had escorted him from Azkaban and to the holding cell, were now escorting him to his place in the pit. Like his mother, once he sat in the chair, only the wrist and ankle restraints put themselves into position. Some part of him wasn't exactly sure if he should be insulted or not. He was a marked Death Eater after all. Surely he must be considered a wee bit dangerous. Before he could ruminate on that further however, like his father, and mother before him, The Minister was calling forth witnesses. Draco would get to have all of his shortcomings numbered before all. As he sat listening, he realized that he really had not been a very nice person. Though he was no where near a vile as some who had gone before him, he held no falsehood that he was innocent. As he sat listening to the devastation his actions had wrought, he had never been more ashamed of himself. 

 

When it came to the point in the proceedings where Minister Shacklebolt asked if there was anyone who wished to speak on his behalf, he actually wasn't surprised by the silence. He had made few friends while in school, and he knew that none of them were in a position to stick their necks out for him, busy as they were protecting their own heads. Besides, if not for his, and his families influence, some of them may not have been in the positions they now found themselves in to begin with. 

 

As the silence dragged on, Draco hung his head in shame. This is what all his posturing had come to? Well, then so be it. He had earned the rebukes, and he shall pay is debt. However as The Minister went to speak, there was a small commotion from one section of the assembled viewers and witnesses. Draco raised his head, and looked to where his aunt, and Harry Potter had stood previously. Instead of raven black hair, his eyes fell upon spun gold colored hair that looked so soft, it seemed to come with it's own little wind storm the way it puffed and floated about. Piercing blue eyes, a quirky smile and a pair of rather large radish, and bottle cap earrings. Luna. Luna Lovegood had something to say on his behalf. Looking at her standing there in floral print pink and orange ornate robes, Draco couldn't help but smile. Bless her fuzzy heart, she would always be Loony Luna. 

 

Draco looked to see The Minister smiling indulgently at Luna. "Will you please state your name for the court records" came his baritone request. 

 

"Luna Lovegood. Though, my friends call me Loony. You are welcome to do so as well, if you wish, Minister. I dare say we may be friends after all this." Luna stood smiling at Kingsly Shacklebolt in only the way that Luna could. 

 

"Thank you, Ms. Lovegood" Shacklebolt replied, doing his best to hide his bemusement while sounding formal. "And you wished to speak on Mr. Malfoy's behalf?"

 

"No." There were several gasps and much tittering before Luna began speaking again. "I am not here to speak on Mr. Malfoy's behalf. He's a dreadful man, and one we’ve heard more than enough about today. I am here to speak for Draco." When she had finished speaking she smiled at The Minister and the rest of the court as if they were all a bit slow. Sometimes Luna did have a way of making you wonder if you were slow, or she was so fast that she just appeared slow to the uneducated, and ill informed. Or for that matter to anyone too stuffy and conventional to see her brilliance properly. 

 

A bright smile was threatening to break out at any moment on Shacklebolt's face… "So, Ms. Lovegood, what did you wish to say on Draco's behalf then?" There was a long pause before her whispy voice came floating around the room once again.

 

"Oh, nothing much. I just wanted to say that he was very nice when I was staying in his dungeon." 

 

Draco's head dropped, and he would have banged his head on a table, if he had one in front of him. Instead, he let out a groan that was muffled by the volume of sound that went up with Luna's proclamation.

 

"Ms. Lovegood" Shacklebolt said, clearing his voice. "Did you mean to make these comments early, during the proceedings?"

 

"Oh no, Minister" came her breathy reply "That was for accounting all of the bad things, and this was a good thing. I mean as good as one can be, all things considering."

 

Fighting a look of utter perplexity, the Minister looked at Luna and simply said "Please. Explain."

 

"Well, it's simple really" said Luna as if she were talking to an extremely slow child. "Draco could have made it so much worse, but he didn't. He was supposed to make it worse. They wanted him to torture us, Mr. Olivander and I. Oh and the little goblin too. But he never did. He just acted like he did, and then he spelled us to look like he had. And he was always bringing us extra food, which really was just food, because the others were starving us, but it was extra to the nothing we were getting. And he even healed us when he could, but not too much, or the others would beat us more, thinking they hadn't done good enough of a job. So really, he made it very nice indeed, and that is why I am here to tell you to be nice to my friend, who was nice to us." And then she stopped talking, since it seemed that was the longest anything Luna had ever gotten out at one time. 

 

Well! What does one really say to such things? Apparently not much, as Luna was already skipping back to her seat by the time The Minister had recovered enough to say "Thank you for that, Ms. Lovegood. It is appreciated."

 

Luna, being Luna, stopped mid skip, pirouetted around like a ballerina on one foot, and while still balancing on one foot, cocked her head to one side, smiled and replied "You are most welcome, Minister. I wanted people to know the good side of Draco, the one he doesn't show very often, because he doesn't trust people to not use it against him, or think him weak for it." She then hopped to her other foot, cocked her head in the opposite direction and said "Kingsley…" 

 

With a bit of a shocked smile, he simply replied "Yes, Luna?" awaiting the latest pearl of wisdom… 

 

"I really like your new kufi. Your partner has surprisingly good taste." 

 

It's not often one gets to see the Minister for Magic, Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt flabbergasted, but indeed he was since no one but himself, and the person that had given him the hat knew where he had gotten it. However before he could thank Luna for her compliment there was another commotion in the room. Lovegood had once again stopped, mid skip, and was balancing on one foot. This time she was aiming a rather penetrating gaze at a group of wizards that had been rather loudly discussing her testimony. Still balanced on one foot, Luna looked at them, and in a voice unlike anything Draco had heard previously, she stated for all present to hear:

 

"If you _'sirs'_ doubt the voracity of my statements, you are welcome to view the pensive memories I will be giving The Minister. You can then interrogate me, while you interrogate Harry, if you so choose. Please remember however that while I may be Loony, I am far from mad, and even further still from being _a liar_." With that her airy-fairy nature returned and she finished skipping to her seat. 

 

The Minister stared at her with something that could only be described as father like pride before he simply said "Thank you, Ms. Lovegood. That was most enlightening." He then shot a glare that would have curdled fresh milk that had a stasis charm in place at the wizard's Luna had addressed. "If there is anyone present that has questions, and has the authorization to ask them, know that there will be a period before sentencing for you to do so" with that, he shot a few more pointed glares around the room. "Now, if there is no one else…"

 

"Actually, Minister, there is someone else. I would hope I too would have a chance to speak."

 

Draco didn't know if he should be thrilled, or terrified, and then quickly realized he was a healthy dose of both. Standing in the spot that Luna had vacated one none other than _'Specky git, extraordinare’_ , Harry Potter. Draco had a feeling that every miserable thing he had ever done in his short, miserable life was going to come home to roost this very day. 

 

The Minister for Magic looked down at Harry with an unreadable expression. Eventually an almost undetectable smile played around the corners of his wide, expressive mouth before he simply said "But of course. I would have expected nothing else. Proceed."

 

"Thank you, Minister. I will try to not take too much of your time, it has been a long day for everyone." Potter bowed slightly at the end of his sentence and Draco couldn't help but think bitterly 'Certainly, don't waste too much time on me, we already know I'm rather awful'. 

 

"The Draco Malfoy I knew was a selfish, arrogant, spoiled prat" began Potter.

 

_'Well!!! That's that, then! I wonder if they will let us have one last look at the sky before they take us back to the cells. If I get some more news paper the bed might not be as awful. I…"_

 

"But he was also just a child, just as I was. We were children forced into grown-up’s squabbles. Grown-up’s wars. I know for a fact that many of the things he did, he was forced to do…"

 

_'I… wait what did he just say?'_ Draco forced himself to quiet his own inner turmoil and listen, truly listen. 

 

"I know that he did some terrible things. I also know he did them in an attempt to save his family." At that, there were the beginnings of discontent, and rather loud grumblings, with a few scattered shouts of "No matter!" and "He had a choice…!" and "Still a Death Eater." Potter stood for a moment, letting the arguments roll over him like waves. Then he began to address various quarters of the room where the comments had come from.

 

"No, actually, it DOES matter. We all did things we were not proud of leading up to, and during the war. Such is the nature of war." 

 

He then looked to another part of the room "You say he had a choice, but how much of one did he really have? Brainwashed his entire life to think a certain way, and even if he didn't wish to follow those views, not doing so would have meant the death of his family, and most likely himself. Tell me how much of a choice that actually is?" 

 

He then addressed the room in general. "Yes, Draco Malfoy is a marked Death Eater. That is a choice he will have to live with the rest of his life. It was also a choice that was made for him, and one he undertook at the ripe old age of barely 17. Now I am certain that every single other person here has never done something when they were young that they regretted, however I know that I can say I certainly have. The difference is I have a chance to make amends for the mistakes I have made." 

 

Draco was having a difficult time reading them timber of the room. While there were some nodding in agreement with what Potter had to say, there was still much grumbling, and ill will to be found as well. Potter, to his credit, continued as if everything was wonderful, and they were simply discussing the last hand of Exploding Snap.

 

"I know that the desire is for vengeance. To see every last person pay dearly for what has been lost. For those that have been lost. However, the Light are not the only ones that have lost friends and family. If the outcome had been different, we would have hoped for compassion, for mercy, and known we would have received none. I am hoping that we are to be better than that."

 

The Malfoy mask was fractured into a thousand tiny pieces, hanging on by the merest threads. Was Harry Potter actually standing for the Wizengamot and pleading for him to be shown mercy??!?

 

"Albus Dumbledore believed Draco worthy of a second chance. I watched him lower his wand. He was ready to take a different path then, and the chance was taken from him. My hope is that he can be given a second chance now."

 

What? How? How did Potter know that he lowered his wand??? Draco went through every moment of that horrible night on the astronomy tower in his mind. He hadn't seen Potter, and yet, he knew what happened as if he had been there. How? Draco had little time to think further on there matter as there was another tremendous commotion. Several people had jumped to their feet and were now screaming at Potter.

 

"How DARE YOU!

"You are the Chosen One! How COULD YOU?!?!"

"He's Death Eater Scum, how DARE you ask for mercy for him!"

 

At that last Potter's hold on his magic snapped. Draco had never seen anything so spectacular, and terrifying in the same instance. Harry Potter looked all the world like an Avenging Angel. Magic roiling, and robes whipping about him on a self generated storm front. 

 

"He may be a Death Eater, but he's a Death Eater that saved my LIFE!" the courtroom fell as quiet as if a Silencio had been cast. "Yes, Draco Malfoy, Death Eater, saved the lives of Harry James Potter, Ronald B. Weasley, and Hermione Granger. If the Death Eater Scum, as you so eloquently put it had not lied to his mad aunt's face, even knowing that he would face the wrath of Voldemort when the truth came out, I wouldn't be here trying to convince you to give him a second chance." Potter stood for several moments taking deep breathes, and pulling his magic back under his control. 

 

Eventually, when his magic was back to being an intense shimmer rolling across him, he continued speaking. "Yes, Draco Malfoy was a first class prat, and yes he did some horrendous things in attempts to first please his father, and then to save his father, and mother from the madman his father had thrown his lot in with. But Draco never killed anyone, and his actions in the end saved countless more. Albus Dumbledore felt him worth of a second chance, and I do too. Yes, we saved his life multiple times that last day, but the only reason we could was because he saved our lives that day in the manor.If we can't see beyond the hate, beyond the pain… see beyond making someone pay because of their last name, versus their blood status, then really… what have I..., what have WE been fighting for really."

 

There was silence for as long as it took Potter to get back to his seat, and then the courtroom literally erupted in sound. It was like auditory bomb had gone off! There was such pandemonium that Draco and his parents were quickly removed, and ushered back to the holding cell while Potter remained seated, looking even MORE like an avenging angel with his magic rolling off of him in waves of white and purple, and The Minister trying to Sonorus the room to be QUIET!!!

 

Draco figured that with the level of uproar to be had at the moment, this was either going to go very well, or very very poorly. Though, either way it was out of his hands, and they would just have to wait and see. They three were once again returned to their restraints. The restraints allowed for a limited range of movement, but made escape impossible. As if they had anywhere to go if they did find themselves free. Once the door had closed behind them, Draco was stunned by a sudden lunge from his father. Whether his father had been faking his invalid state, or it was a moment of lucidity, it was only the length, or lack there of, of the restraints that kept Lucius from reaching him. Though, even without a weapon, Lucius could always wound Draco, and he took an opportunity to do so now. 

 

"You wretched, rotten, disappointment of a whelp! You LIED!!!! We had the Potter brat at our mercy, and you LIED!!! We could have handed him over to our Lord, and everything would have been wonderful again, and YOU! You took THAT MOMENT to get a conscious! You miserable BRAT! I should have murdered you the moment you showed you couldn't control your feelings! I should have Imperiused you more often than I did! I should have…"

 

Draco would never know the next thing that Lucius wished he had, for it was at that moment, that his mother, who could reach his father, back handed him so hard that his head hit the stone wall, and he was out cold. Draco could only sit in shock, rapidly blinking at his mother while she fumed.

 

"Stupid, stupid man! I loved you for years, and tried to save you from your own stupidity! I couldn't save you, but I will be thrice damned if I let you heap guilt on our son for attempting to be better than we ever gave him a chance to be!" His mother continued to rant at his comatose father for several more minutes before slumping down on the bench, and leaning against Draco's shoulder, just as he had done to her, earlier in the day. 

 

With shaking fingers, Narcissa smoothed fine blonde hairs away from Draco's eyes. As he turned his head towards his mother, she kissed him gently on the forehead and leaned back to meet his gaze. "I am ever so very proud of you, My Dragon. I never wanted you to take that wretched mark; never wanted you to be a bonded servant to that wretched creature. I am sorry I couldn't save you, but I am prouder than you will ever know at the fact that you tried to not only save us, but yourself too. I am prouder than I have ever been to know that when you had a choice to make, you made the right one. No matter what happens this day, know that I am proud of you, and that I love you, My dearest, darling Dragon."

 

There was so much he wanted to say to his mother, but he simply couldn't. The lump in his throat was just too great. All he could manage was a chocked "I love you too, always Mère." And then all was silent, as they awaited their fate. 

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

Draco had no idea what normal procedure was in these instances. All he knew was that they had been there long enough to have two loo breaks, and to have dinner brought to them. When the Aurors that had been guarding them came in, and saw Lucius passed out, his mother had smiled sweetly and simply said "Dead to the world. It has been a long, and stressful day." While they did give her a quizzical look, none of them bothered to check on his father, once they noticed his chest was still rising and falling. 

 

Eventually they did come for them. In fact, it was just about the time that Draco was wondering if there were going to sleep there, and if his mother was going to have to incapacitate her husband again. The Aurors made short work of his, and his mother's bonds, and then one of the Aurors cast _Rennervate_ to bring him to. Since he woke up cursing, and swinging the Aurors were kind enough to put him in a full body bind, and then cast Silencio on him. The idea of being floated into court seemed to enrage him even further, much to Draco's amusement. Though he showed no outward signs of noticing, other than one delicately raised eye brow. 

 

When they entered the courtroom, Draco was surprised to see that it was as packed as previously, and if possible, held even more people there to bare witness to the Malfoy downfall. 

 

They were shown back to their places on the benches, their restraints firmly back in place. Once there was some semblance of order, the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt began to address the accused in turn.  

 

"Lucius Malfoy, please rise." With that directive, his father's ankle restraints stretched so that he could stand to face his fate.

 

"You have been found guilty in this court of grievous crimes against the wizarding world, and humanity at large. While it is understood that you were raised to believe certain things, as an adult, as a father, as a husband, as a wizard, it was your responsibility to take a different road. A road that did not lead to the ruination of yourself and your family. A road that did not lead to the deaths and injury of those that had committed no crime other than thinking differently than you, and of being born of 'different blood' as distasteful as that idea is for me to even voice. You allied yourself amongst people who considered themselves to be judge, jury, and executioners. You aligned yourself with murderers in the name of power, and blood purity." 

 

"You stand before us, Lucius Malfoy, a broken man. Bereft of friends, and of family. Now I shall further remove the things you seem to have counted even more important than family, and those few unfortunates you may have called friend. Lucius Malfoy, as Minister for Magic, and presiding head judge of the Wizengamot, for your crimes against the wizarding community, I formally strip you of your magic. You are here by banned from carrying a wand for the rest of your life, natural or otherwise. You are here by banned from doing magic, wanded, wandless, or otherwise. Your magic shall be stripped, and your magical core bound. You shall effectively, from this day forth be a 'pure blood' squib." 

 

At those words there was a gasp from a few people in the audience, but Minister Shacklebolt continued as if he hadn't heard.  

 

As you have shown no respect for the gift the Universe has bestowed upon you, it shall be removed from you, never to burden you again. In addition to your magic being removed, you shall forfeit half of the Malfoy fortune. Part of the forfeiture shall go towards reparations towards your victims and their families. Another part of the money shall go to repairing Hogwarts so the next generation has somewhere to study, to learn, and to hopefully avoid making the same mistakes you seemed to excel at. 

 

In addition to the loss of your wand, the loss of your right to magic, and the loss of your monies, you shall also pay for your crimes with the loss of your freedom. You, Lucius Malfoy shall spend no less than the next 50 years of your sad, misused life in Azkaban Prison. Since it appears that you are not in your right mind at the moment, upon your return to Azkaban you shall be moved to the Psychiatric Ward. While this may all just be a cleaver ruse, we will not have it said we do not take care of prisoners properly. While in the prison's Psychiatric Ward, you shall be seen to by mind healers in an attempt to determine if your condition is legitimate or not. If for some reason your mind decides to return you to us, you will complete the remainder of your sentence in general population. Regardless of the diagnosis you, Lucius Malfoy, shall spend no less than the next 50 years as a guest of the Realm at Azkaban Prison. 

 

Also forfeit is a thing you seemed to value above all else, more than you valued your own family…Status. You, Lucius Malfoy, shall also lose your title of Lord of Malfoy Manor, and all its holdings. Since you shall be incapacitated for the next 50 years, your title of Lord Malfoy shall be stripped, and bestowed upon the next available, and free Malfoy heir. If one is not available in Britain, then it shall be ceded to an heir in another country. 

 

Your pride, blind faith in a madman, and hatred has managed to cost you everything that should have been important to you, and everything you thought was important. May Magic forgive you for what you have done. 

 

A magical gavel came down on the counter in front of the Minister, and two robed Aurors moved in to take Lucius away. As he started to thrash, curse, and shriek so violently that he managed to dislodge the Silencio, it became very apparent to all in attendance that Lucius' stay in the Psychiatric Ward might end up being far shorter than he might have hoped for.

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

Once Lucius had been removed, The Minister for Magic addressed the assembled once again. 

 

"War is a horrible thing. We all do things for which we are not proud. Things that we wish we could change, or make amends for. The actions that seemed so necessary at the time, are often cold comfort when the smoke of battle clears…

 

"Narcissa Black Malfoy, please rise". With those words, the ring that had been clipped to his mother's ankle restraints disappeared, and there was an Auror at her side in an instant to help her regain her footing. 

 

"Narcissa Black Malfoy" intoned the Minster's deep baritone. "While you have not made what could be considered the most popular of choices over the years, there is no doubt that you made them with your families best interest at heart. While they were unpopular, I doubt that few here could honestly say their choices would have been much different if it were their families lives on offer.”

 

Draco watched as his mother said nothing, and simply bowed her head, as if The Ministers words were an actual weight on her shoulders. 

 

Minister Shacklebolt continued "However, it has been brought to this courts attention that at a most crucial juncture, you made a choice that greatly benefitted The Light. No, it was not a completely altruistic gesture, but it was a good one, the right one. It is that gesture, above all else that is responsible for your sentence today."

 

_'Sentence???'NO! They couldn't! They couldn't send her back to that place!'_ Draco's mind was once again reeling. Damn it all! He had had hope! And now...!

 

"Narcissa Black Malfoy. You are sentenced to 1 year of probation and 2000 hours of community service. During this time you will have regular checks from the ministry, and your wand shall be subject to random inspections. There is much that needs to be rebuilt in our world. Wounds that need to be properly cleaned, in order for all of us to heal. My wish is that your next year is spent helping to make our world a better place for everyone, regardless of blood status." Minister Shacklebolt looked at Narcissa and smiled as a package with her personal effects materialized, and hovered in front of her. In a blink, the wrist and ankles restraints had disappeared completely, as The Minister simply said, "Lady Malfoy, you are free to leave, or wait to hear Draco's sentencing." 

 

With her back straight, but shoulders trembling, Draco could barely hear as his mother replied "Thank you, Minister, I shall remain." The magical gavel coming down once again as his mother retook her seat on the bench next to Draco and waited. 

 

"Draco Malfoy, please rise." 

 

It was with only the slightest falter in his step that Draco stood as the ring holding him in place vanished. He stood before the Minister for Magic, hands still bound in front of him, and head bowed. He had tried to look at the man, but felt himself burned by the gaze that was just this side of a glare. 

 

"Draco Malfoy. You stand stand before this court today, a marked Death Eater." At those words, something in Draco's spine felt like it had begun to turn to ice.

 

"While you are by no means an innocent, it had been well argued, to the majorities opinion, that it is not entirely through fault of your own that be the case. It has been argued, that your innocence, like many involved in this war was wrested from you."

 

He honestly had little idea what all this meant, and so he stood, letting the Minister's words wash over him like cold rain during a storm. 

 

"Your sentence was the hardest one for us to come to agreement on." 

 

Draco could feel himself beginning to tremble, ever so slightly. But he must not… he must maintain the legendary Malfoy composure. He must. it would not do to be seen as weak where he was going. 

 

"You, Draco Malfoy, appear to have allies where you perhaps least would have expected them."

 

_'Allies?'_ OK, perhaps. Luna had unexpectedly spoken on his behalf but…

 

"Draco Malfoy, you are found guilty of being a known Death Eater, but a Death Eater through coercion. As such, it is the opinion of the majority of this court, that the wizarding world would be better served by you paying back your debts through probation, a fine to be paid towards reparations and community service."

 

That is when the ice running along Draco's spine turned to liquid, and he was grateful to the two Aurors that grabbed him at the elbows before he crumpled to the stone floor. 

 

There was an outburst in the court, most likely from those that had not agreed with the sentence, but it was quickly quelled by The Minister.  

 

"Your sentence shall be as follows: 5 years probation, which shall include you returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to help with the rebuilding, as well as for you to finish your last year of schooling, and take your NEWTS. During your probation, you shall be monitored by The Headmistress of the school, while at Hogwarts, and you shall have probation officer to report to once your schooling is finished. Your wand, shall be subjected to random inspections for the duration of your probation. You shall be fined, from your personal vaults, a total of 10,000 galleons which shall go towards victim reparations. You are also set the task of completing 5000 hours of community service which shall be finished in 7 years or less. If you do not complete your probation without major incident, or your community service in the allotted time, you shall be returned to Azkaban Prison where you shall serve out a sentence of no less than 13 years. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Malfoy?"

 

Draco found himself having to swallow several times to get his throat working again. When he had regained his voice, and looked up to answer The Minister, he found himself staring into a much softer, kinder face. "Thank you, Minister. I do understand and I shall not squander this opportunity." It was a level of humbleness that Draco didn't know he was capable of, and yet it was far less odious than his former self would have imagined it to be. 

 

The softness Draco found in his eyes, was now in the Minister's voice as he continue. "Draco Malfoy. You have been given a second chance. It was argued, rather convincingly that if Albus Dumbledore was willing to give you one, so might we. Many people seem to have much faith in you. Do not show that faith to have been misplaced."

 

Draco blinked rapidly several times before he could answer without his voice quavering "I shall do my best to make them proud, your Honor."

 

"See that you do" came Shacklebolt's reply. 

 

"Now, there is one other bit of business… It seems that your house is without a head. Since you have come to your age of majority, it is within my abilities to place you as head of the family at this time, in spite of your current probationary status, effectively making you the new Lord Malfoy. It is a large responsibility, but one that needs to be attended to, as there needs to be a head in place for many things, including payment of your father's fines. If you do not wish to assume head of house now, it can be done when you finish school, though there will be late payment penalties on your father's debt up to that point."

 

Draco hesitated but a moment "I shall take the responsibility now, with the court's approval. No one should have to wait a year for us to begin to right the wrongs that were done."

 

At that The Minister smiled at Draco almost kindly. "Very well. You are expected to report to Hogwarts in one weeks time to begin assisting with the repairs to the castle. Headmistress McGonagall is expecting you. I hope when next we meet, it is under far better circumstances." With that, a package materialized in front of Draco that he could only assume were his belongings. 

 

"You are free to go, Lord Malfoy, and I look forward to good things from you, young sir." " This court is adjourned."With that the magical gavel once again fell. Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt turned and swept out of the room, and then Draco's world got even more surreal. 

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

Draco stood holding his mother tightly. He knew that there was all kinds of movement and commotion going on around them in the courtroom. It all registered on some subconscious level, but his main focus was the woman in his arms, his mother. He held onto her tightly, feeling their heartbeats, their breathing synch. Eventually he registered her breath against his temple and heard her say in the faintest voice "It's over, my Dragon. We're finally free."

 

Draco had no idea how long they had stood there, but eventually he realized that they were not alone. They finally pulled away from one another when they heard a voice over his shoulder say "Cissa." 

 

"Dromy." His motherstood there for only a moment before stepping up to the woman that looked so much like his crazy aunt Bella, but who was obviously so different. 

 

"Cissa?" One word, with so many questions in it. So much pain, and hope too.

 

In one quick movement, his mother had wrapped her arms around the older woman, her face buried in the crook of her shoulder. "Oh Dromy! I never…"

 

"Shhh, Cissa. I know." Andromeda wrapped her arms tighter around her younger sister, hands rubbing circles on her back. 

 

"But Dromy I…" He could hear the pain in his mother's voice, but he didn't know what to do about it. All he could do was to try to be there for her. 

 

"Cissa, I know." His aunt caught his mother in an even fiercer hug. "I know, I really do. Your owls over the years have meant the world to me."

 

BLINK… BLINK BLINK BLINK… _'Her owls?!?'_ Draco said nothing, but could't help but look at his mother with a new found respect. 

 

"Dromy. Tonks! and Ree..." 

 

His mother couldn't even finish saying his former professors name. At the moment he knew there was so much he didn't know about his mother. So many things he might never know, but he made a promise to try to learn everything she was willing to share.

 

"I'm so sorry, Dromy! I should have… I should have done…" 

 

At that his aunt pushed his mother back and stared at her. "Narcissa! You did what you were supposed to do! You did what I made you PROMISE to do! You took care of yourself, and your family so I could see you again. So I could finally meet my nephew!" With that she grabbed her sister again and hugged her tight. "Please don't apologize for surviving. Please. So many didn't. I am just happy I have some family left." She pulled back again, wiping tears from her eyes, and then smiled. "And besides, you're the sister I always liked."

 

At that they both laughed, and then turned to face Draco. With a smile, Draco's mother looked at him and said "Draco Malfoy, I would be honored to introduce you to your aunt, Andromeda Black Tonks."

 

Draco stepped up to his aunt, taking her offered hand in his. With a low bow, he kissed the back of her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze before standing tall again. With a smile that went all the way to his eyes his reply was a simple but honest one "No mother, the honor is indeed mine. Anyone that can make you this happy, I am honored to meet."

 

Andromada smiled at them both "Cissa, he is indeed a charmer. Would you like to meet my little charmer?" 

 

"Oh Dromy! You have him here with you?" Narcissa seemed surprised… 

 

"No, not here, but his Godfather can bring him. He is near by, and there was really no leaving him behind when there was so much excitement to be had." With a quick motion, his aunt reached into her robes, and pulled out a coin giving it a quick rub. 

 

 

It looked familiar to Draco some how, but he didn't have much time to think about it as two things happened simultaneously. First, he felt his mother's familiar magic wash over him, and he looked down to find he was dressed in the robes he had been taken away from the manor in, and second Harry Potter was strolling into the room carrying a very excited little black haired boy. 

 

Andromeda smiled as they walked towards her, her grin only getting bigger as the little boy began squirming in Potter's arms, waving his chubby little fists and calling "Nanna!"

 

With a nod to Potter, Andromeda opened her arms and the little boy leapt into them. 

 

"UUUF!!!" came Andromeda's winded laugh. "Careful there, Teddy Bear. I'm not as young as your uncle Harry!" 

 

"Sowwy Nanna" came the muffled reply. It seemed once free of Potter's protective embrace 'Teddy' was having a 'case of the shy' all of a sudden. 

 

"Well now, Narcissa. Since you were kind enough to introduce me to your lovely young man, I shall return the favor." Andromeda beamed. The pride and happiness overcoming all but a minute bit of sadness that danced in her eyes. "Narcissa Black Malfoy, I would like you to meet your great nephew, Theodore 'Teddy' Tonks Lupin."

 

Draco and his mother stood watching as Teddy squirmed in his grandmother's arms, eventually stretching up to whisper something in her ear. For a moment Andromeda just looked at the little boy before she whispered something back. Finally Andromeda pulled back.

 

"Teddy, it is rude to whisper like this and keep secrets. If you want to know, just ask them…" 

 

They all waited until Teddy finally asked "Are you bad?" 

 

Everyone was a bit startled by the child's straight forward curiosity, though it was Narcissa who recovered quickest. Smiling her best smile, she looked at the little boy and said rather honestly "Not any more. And we plan on being very very good from now on. Don't we, Draco?"

 

Sputtering, Draco's only reply was "But of course Mama."

 

Teddy looked back and forth between them, and then to his grandmother and uncle Harry who were standing there smiling. Pleased with the reply, he finally said "Good! Hello there, I'm Teddy!" And then he suddenly went from black hair, to Malfoy silver blonde, his eyes going the same color as Draco's and his features thinning out. "Nice to meet you!"

 

Everyone but Teddy burst out laughing. He was too busy sat in his grandmother's arms, grinning. 

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

The two women stood chatting animatedly about Teddy's gifts that he got from his parent's, as well as making plans for seeing one another sooner, rather than later. While they talked, Andromeda commented that she had no idea what she was going to do, now that Harry was heading back to school. Her extra pair of hands were going to be sorely missed. It was then that Narciassa got her idea for community service. "Dromy dearest… let us talk a bit when we are away from here. I have some ideas, and I would value your input."

 

Andromeda knew that look in her sister's eyes, even if she hadn't seen it in years. That was the look of Narcissa Black on a mission! All Andromeda could do was smile, and shake her head before replying jovially "But of course, Cissa. As always, you lead, and I will be happy to follow in your wake." 

 

The two women burst out laughing, and where only quieted when Potter said "Well, I think the vultures may be gone by now. Shall try to make it to the floo network?"

 

Agreeing that it had been a horrifically long day, everyone else agreed and they left the courtroom, slowly winding their way through the torch lit corridors. Draco made note that Potter moved through the halls with no hesitation, and could only assume it was due to how much time he had spent here in the recent months. While bringing up the rear of the group, Draco had angled himself in such a way that he could keep an eye on his mother, his aunt and cousin, and maintain good visuals on Potter and what turned out to be his very fit arse. Draco was musing to himself that someone must have started dressing him while he was away, as he looked rather smashing in his emerald green dress robes that brought out the near impossible to imagine color of his eyes when suddenly his own eyes were assaulted by flashing white lights.

 

_'Merlin's saggy nut sack!'_ The vulture's hadn't gone home. On the contrary, it seemed like the miserable pricks were being allowed to roost in the atrium of the very ministry itself! Before they could retreat back the way they had come, and plan another way out, they were swarmed like ants on sugar! The questions and accusations came from all quarters, each seemingly more ludicrous than the next. 

 

"Mr. Potter, is it true the ministry checked you for spells?" "Did they check for an Imperious???"

 

"Mr. Malfoy, do you fear retribution from other Death Eaters now that your defection of sorts is public record!"

 

"Mrs. Malfoy, will you divorce Mr. Malfoy, now that he will be in Azakaban for a very LONGGGGGG time!!?"

 

"Mr. Potter, whose the boy?"

 

"Mr. Malfoy, is it true that you PLANNED the situation at the manor, just to make yourself look better?"

 

"Mr. Potter, you can't seriously be suggesting that decent people accept filth like former Death Eaters back into POLITE society?!?!?"

 

At that last 'inquiry' Potter stopped mid stride, turned and pinned the miscreants with the type of stare that made the smart ones of the group recoil as if they had been soundly slapped. _'As they richly deserved to be'_ thought Draco and the rest of the adults to themselves. After turning slowly where he stood, making sure that he had eye contact with each and every reporter there, Potter pulled himself up ramrod straight and began to speak.

 

"I appreciate your interest in seeing justice done, as well as you all being here for the duration of the trials. I am sure that you will understand if keep my comments brief, as it has been a long day, and I wish to get my Godson home to bed. _'Well, that answers the who is the boy question'_ Draco mused to himself. 

 

Potter continued speaking in a quick, and clipped tone that had the Quick Quotes Quills flying across parchment. "Today saw the last of the Death Eater Trials. I stand before you feeling… knowing that justice has been served." There was a bit of grumbling with that, but Potter continued as if he hadn't heard. 

 

"Narcissa and Draco Malfoy stand here now because of choices they made. When the choice was hard, and even dangerous, they chose to come down on the side of The Light. If it where not for the choices they made, I would not be standing here to have this conversation with you. Both of these people in their own way saved my life." There was a sudden rush of noise as more questions were thrown out, with Potter calling for silence again with a stern look.

 

"While I am certain this information will come as a shock to some, and be viewed as a fabrication to others, I can assure you that the Wizengamot took every step to assure that all testimonies were accurate, and freely given." _'There goes the answer for the spells and Imperius_ ' thought Draco wryly. He didn't know when it had happened, but Potter had become an expert at answering questions without addressing them directly. Malfoy had to admit that he was more than a bit in awe of this new, more statesmen-like Potter.

 

Malfoy shook himself out of reverie to hear Potter saying "… would consider it a personal insult, and attack upon myself if two people to whom I owe my life were injured due to old grudges and past hatreds." 

 

_'Wait, WHAT??!?!'_ Did Potter just say what he think he did???

 

"Further more, I would do everything in my power to make sure the perpetrators paid to the fullest extent of the law. We cannot move forward as a society, by holding onto the hates and the pains of the past. We all, on both sides lost people dear to us. Regardless of which side someone was on, they were sure to feel their side, at the time, was the correct one. Regardless of what we personally believe, the loss of life is no less painful on either side, at least for those that cared about the person now gone."

 

There was still some low grumbling to be heard, but for the most part the noises were confined to low murmurs of agreement, punctuated by an occasional sniffle, and a quiet sob from somewhere off to Potter's right hand side. Upon hearing that his expression softened as he took in the assembled crowd. Quills poised awaiting any further pearls of wisdom The Anointed One wished to share with them.  

 

Potter smiled and continued "There are some that will say it is too soon. That the pain is too fresh. I say it is never too soon to try to heal old wounds. I never knew my parents, and so I know loss all too well. Since coming to the magical world I have lost even more once I was made aware of who I truly was, and what my destiny in all of this was to be. Whatever innocence I might have had was gone long ago. Now all I wish for myself, and for the rest of the magical world is to be able to move forward, and to heal. To be lessen, if not be free of the emotional pain that is been such a constant companion in my life all these years"

 

_'_ Oh, he was good!' Draco knew that Potter was speaking from the heart, but he also knew that each word was chosen for maximum impact. Simple words that everyone could understand, used to highlight the simple desire to lead a pain free existence. 'Brilliant.'

 

"The light has triumphed. But for that to mean something, truly mean something, we must make sure we do not repeat the mistakes of the past. We must not hold on to old grudges, because that is truly what drove Voldemort." Draco had to hide a smirk while he watched a shiver go through the crowd like a ripple at the casual way he spoke of old _Snake Face_. Potter continued "He had a grudge against a magical world he felt had shunned him, and he felt it perfectly acceptable to make the children pay for the imagined crimes of their parents. If we do not wish to repeat our mistakes, we must learn from them."

 

_'Brilliant'_ thought Draco. ' _Simply bloody brilliant.'_ Potter had made it clear what he expected, and that anything else would be a direct insult to him.

 

"Too many wonderful people have suffered unimaginable loss to allow the same mistakes to be perpetuated over and over again. I plan on being a force for change, starting now."

 

With that, Potter too several steps towards Draco. Before he could register what was going on, there was a hand being thrust towards him as he heard "Lord Malfoy, may I be the first to welcome you back to wizarding society. I thank you for what you and your mother did for me, and I look forward to working with you both in improving our world for one and all."

 

Draco's own hand shot out without a moments hesitation. Potter's grasp was firm, and warm and Draco noticed his skin tingling where their hands met. As they held hands, there were several flash bulbs going off, and all Draco could do was stand there grinning like a loon. That look of bemused surprise was replaced by something else entirely when Potter, not letting go of his hand, reached into his robes, bowed low and then straightened pointing a wand, non business end towards Draco. Obviously relishing the look of shock on Malfoy's face, Potter did his own grinning loon impression. 

 

"Lord Malfoy. Your wand. Thank you for the loan, it was invaluable." And that is when the flashbulbs went off as if someone had cast an out of control Lumos in the atrium.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

Several hours later a very tired Harry Potter was settling into one of the parlors when his wards rippled, and the sound of apparition was heard in the kitchen. Not expecting anyone so late, he drew his wand and cast a Lumos as he walked towards the darkened room. As he pushed the kitchen door open, he released the breathe he didn't even realize he had been holding. Standing in his kitchen, pouring himself a rather large snifter of brandy was an equally tired looking Minister for Magic.

 

"Help yourself, Kings." Harry chuckled. "Though I am wondering to what I owe this late night visit?" Harry had a fairly good idea why the man was standing in his kitchen at 1:45 in the morning. However, years of knowing him, made Harry fully aware that the only way either of them would get any rest, was if Kingsley addressed whatever was ailing him sooner, rather than later. 

 

With an accompanying chuckle of his own, Kingly poured Harry a brandy without being asked. _'So, it was going to be THAT kind of talk'_ Harry thought to himself with bemusement. 

 

"Oh, I don't know why I am here… I mean, it's not like I haven't been fielding questions all evening in regards to your impromptu press conference."

 

Harry said nothing, and just let his friend continue. After so many years, and so much shared between them, they did consider one another friends, in spite of their age difference. Kingsley had always been someone who treated Harry like a person, and not just a commodity, or a means to an end. He had always been respectful towards Harry, and it was a respect Harry returned in kind. 

 

Kinglsley took a seat and looked up at Harry where he was standing. Harry could see he that he was tired, but not truly angry. The Minister continued. "I mean, I thought we agreed that you would give the standard 'no comment' until such a time when we could craft a full statement."

 

Harry ran his hands through his mop of black hair, forcing it into even more amazing spires and steeples of unruly chaos. He sighed and took his own glass of brandy, taking a sip before sitting down across from the older man. "Kings… YOU agreed I would say no comment. I simple said I would try!"

 

Kingsley huffed out an exasperated sigh, but before he could say anything, Harry quickly continued. "Look, I know I'm not always the best with words, but I had to say something. If I didn't those vultures would have made up their own answers to the questions anyway. And I certainly couldn't let it be thought that it would be OK to Hex Malfoy and his mother in the back, now could I? Or anyone else for that matter! I mean, I can't very well talk about wanting peace, while staying silent if people think it is OK to have vigillanty groups running about, and meeting out their own brand of justice. That's not that much different than the Death Eaters hexing and maiming since they thought what they were doing was justified as well." Harry hesitated and took a sip of the brandy, savoring the warm burn before he continued. "I… I hope I didn't make your job more difficult, Kingsley. Well, much more difficult than it already is."

 

The two men sat in silence sipping their brandy until suddenly the quiet was consumed by Kingsley's hungry baritone laugh. It was rich, and deep and filled a place in Harry that until then, he hadn't realized was empty. They laughed for an inordinately long time before Harry finally managed to catch his breath and gasp "What exactly are we laughing about, Kings?" which for some reason sent The Minister into even bigger peals of laughter. 

 

Eventually the dark man managed to catch his own breath. Wiping his eyes, he looked at Harry with shining eyes filled with laughter, pride, and no small amount of love. He eventually managed to get out "Oh, you have made my job more difficult, but not for the reasons you think." Harry nodded his head and waited for his friend to continue. "It seems you have yet again managed to do something that few thought possible. You put a human face on the Death Eaters. It made people think about the fact that even though they were on the wrong side of the war, they were still human. Still had loved, and lost like everyone else. Now my office is swamped with people suggesting Death Eater reform programs. I decided it was time to leave the office when I got the proposal for the 'Adopt-A-Death-Eater-Program' followed by 'Death Eaters Need Love Too."

 

Harry sat there with his mouth agape until he once again burst out laughing. This time, the laughter continued until they were both in tears, and clutching their sides. In between the laughter there was much brandy drunk, and much more discussion about which programs were actually not that far fetched. If for some reason the conversation began to feel too serious, all either of them had to do was say "Death Eaters Need Love Too." And the laughter and subsequent tears from it would start afresh.

 

The conversation and drinking continued on into the wee hours of the morning, with Harry finally seeing Kingsly to one of the guest rooms before vanishing his clothes and falling into his own bed, a tired but happy heap. As sleep finally claimed him, his last thought was how good it felt to laugh again.

 

End Chapter One

 


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